


Stockholm

by Sachi_love



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom, drowley - Fandom
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Drowley, Healing, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past/Present, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sachi_love/pseuds/Sachi_love
Summary: Dean had been captured by Crowley and for eight months endured the worst anyone can think of. He struggles in the present while remembering the past. Cas and Sam try they're  best to help but never having dealt with this type of aftermath, their lost. Warnings: Non-con, rape, assault. CrowleyxDean CastielxDean JacobxDean Drowley Destiel Dean/OC





	1. Crap Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this story on Fanfiction.net but I want to post it here as well! It's been a while since I've written fan fiction and though I'll upload the first three chapters up quick, it may take a while for continuing chapters to be posted!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do own my OC Jacob.

**xxxxx – This indicates a shift in time. The fic starts off with the present and goes back and forth between past and present. The past will be in italics.**

Dean didn’t know how long he’d been lying on his left side. His hip was starting to numb up with the weight of his body but he wouldn’t be moving any time soon though. He welcomed the cold, tingling feeling. It was a small, momentary distraction from his thoughts.

It had been eight months since he’d been in his room, eight months since he was the man he used to be. Now, he was only an empty shell. An empty shell with nothing but horrible, horrifying memories.

xxxxx

_“Morning.” Dean yawned, grabbing a cup of coffee from the counter. Sam was sitting at the kitchen tables, eyes glued to his laptop. He seemed so mesmerized by whatever was on the screen Dean figured he didn’t hear or notice him. He kicked a leg of Sam’s chair as he walked around to his own, jolting Sam into awareness at the sudden start. Sam and rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother but smiled all the same._

_“Didn’t think you’d be up this early.” Sam remarked as Dean sipped his coffee._

_“Not many cases lately, I’ve been able to get a full night for the past week.” Dean smiled. He was very fond of sleep._

_Sam smiled and shook his head. “Well I’m glad you’re so well rested, because I think I snagged us something.”_

_Dean slammed his hand down on the table. “Lay it on me.” He gruffed, ready for some action._

xxxxx

Eight months ago was when it all went down. They were both so eager to hunt, so willing to jump back in after their tiny break. They were less prepared then they thought and went in halfcocked, ready to bash in some heads and save a few lives. They hadn’t expected it to be a trap. They also hadn’t expected Crowley to be behind it.

Even thinking his name sent Dean to shaking on his sheets. He was so tired and his brain was running on empty. He wanted to sleep but every time he closed his eyes he saw Crowley, smirking. Every time he saw Crowley, his body betrayed him and he felt sick to his stomach.

“Dean?” Same called softly from the hallway outside Dean’s room. “I –uhm, I made some soup.” He paused. “Are you hungry?”

He wanted to speak out, tell his brother to go away and leave him alone, but Dean no longer had a voice. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word. He’d shut down the moment he stepped foot in the bunker and realized he was home for good.

xxxxx

_“I’m sorry. My associates were a bit rougher with you then I intended.” Crowley walked around the dark, dusky room, shooing away the two demon lackeys on either side of the battered Winchester._

_Dean spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. “It’s fine.” He mumbled through his swollen face._

_“Even so.”_

_“What do you want Crowley?”_

_“Well, I want many things.” He started. “A new wardrobe, a nicer car, world peace-”_

_“Crowley.” It was short, curt, and to the point._

_The King of Hell suddenly rounded on Dean. He leaned against the back of the chair that Dean had been tied to and whispered in his ear. “Oh darling, there’s so many things I want from you.”_

_Dean could feel Crowley’s breath on his ear and the back of his neck. His stomach churned and he jerked away as far as he could._

xxxxx

It could have been hours that Dean laid awake. He could have cycled through a complete twenty-four hours for all he knew. Time was different for him now, slow and unforgiving. All he had were memories and fear; memories to keep him occupied and fear to keep him fragile. At some point he rolled onto his back, the ceiling looming above him, plain and dreary. He chose to shut his eyes for a second but the pale ceiling turned to that of a darker, colder stone and Dean had to snap his eyes open.

Hearing a soft knock at his door, Dean lifted his head to see it open a smidge. Castiel poked his head through and Dean instantly rolled back onto his side. He faced the wall and seemed to crawl inwardly into himself. He could hear Cas take a seat on the chair next to his bed.

Cas sighed. “Dean? Sam is wor-we are worried about you. It’s been two days and you haven’t left your room.” He waited. “You need to eat something Dean, or your body will shut down.”

Dean shifted ever so slightly. He was aware of what not eating could do to a body. He wanted to turn over, sit up, and strike up a conversation with his old pal, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t face him.

“Dean, I would heal you if I could but you have to be willing to be healed. If you stay like this any longer, you will die.”

To be healed, fixed of all that was broken inside was a nice thought, but Dean couldn’t shake it off this time. All the things that he’d done, the person he’d become, he felt too far gone to come back. The only solid thing he could grasp on to was that he didn’t want to be here.

xxxxx

_Dean seethed with rage. His body was nothing but tense and beat to a bloody pulp. He tried to break free of the arms holding him, but they were too solid and forceful. He was stuck standing in front of Crowley and his throne, teeth bared in a snarl._

_Crowley tutted as he leaned in his throne, relaxed in his element. He smirked, again choosing to shoo away his demonic employees, leaving a very taut looking Dean and himself alone. “It’s been a week, Dean, and no one’s come looking for you. I think it’s safe to say that you’ve been left behind.”_

_“Shut up.” Dean hadn’t spoken in a couple days, not finding much use for talking alone in the small cell Crowley had him squatting in. His voice cracked, causing the King to smile, amused. “You can spin it any way you want but Sam and Cas are looking for me.”_

_“And I’ve simply done what?” Crowley’s eyebrows rose. “Locked you away to be mine for all eternity?” He smirked, stood and walked patiently towards Dean. “Well, I guess that -is- what I’ve done. It’ll be a challenge really.”_

_Dean rose a brow, curious and concerned. “What will?”_

_Crowley cocked his head to the side, innocently looking up at Dean. “To see how far I can push you until they find you.” He snapped his fingers and Dean suddenly collapsed to his knees._

_He struggled but Crowley’s demonic force had a good grip. “You can try.” He gritted out. “But when I’m free, I’ll be coming for you.”_

_“One could only hope, darling.”_

xxxxx

It was on the third day that Dean’s stomach growled loudly enough to gain his attention. He finally managed to sleep for three hours but it did nothing to help. All he kept seeing was Crowley. He’d woken up, believing for a moment to have still been with him, that the rescue was only just a dream. A dream he’d had countless times before.

Sighing, he sat up and groaned. His muscles ached, his joints were stiff and he smelled of unwashed clothes. It took him a moment to stand and walk to the door, his legs weak. The lack of movement and nourishment took its toll. It didn’t even really feel like his body anymore. He’d lost a lot of weight and felt like a stranger in his own skin. This room was not his room and the bunker was not his home. Who was he if not Crowley’s?

Dean opened his door and slowly stepped out into the hallway. No one was on door duty. He remembered the day that he no longer needed Crowley’s guards to stand watch. Shuddering, Dean took off down the hallway towards the shower room. He was hungry but he couldn’t lay in his bodily stink for another moment.

The shower was a massive room with stalls lined up on both sides against the walls. In between was a wooden bench to lay towels or clothes. For a moment Dean got lost staring at the floor tiles. He seemed to be right back in that secret room, arms shackled above his head, just barely resting his knees on the cold floor.

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts and kept going to the last stall in a corner of the room. The hot water came on immediately. His clothes lay in a pile flung out on the bench. He used to pride himself on taking short showers, but right now all he could do was stand under the water. He let it rain over him as he drifted in and out of the present.

xxxxx

_A week turned into three and Dean had only been taken out of his cell twice. Crowley tried to dine at a dinner table with Dean and realized his mistake too late at allowing knives among the cutlery. Dean had been beaten purple for ruining a good suit. The other time was when Crowley wanted to show Dean his arsenal of torture devices._

_His demon lackeys brought him one morning to the room. Crowley had come in from a questionable room at the far end of the torture room. Dean was always tense nowadays, alert to every detail happening around him, but the look in Crowley’s eyes was starting to send him over the edge of insanity._

_“Come here.” Crowley purred, crooking a finger towards himself._

_Dean stood still, feet planted firmly beneath him. “Bite me.”_

_“With all this sweet talk, you sure do know how to make a girl quiver.” Another crook of his finger._

_Dean could feel the pull from deep within his chest. He wanted his feet to stay firmly on the ground but the force Crowley tugged with sent his legs to do the opposite. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Crowley, looking down at him with disdain._

_“What? More beatings? My clothes can only be soaked in so much blood.” He growled._

_Crowley reached out and took hold of Dean’s arm. “This way darling.” He said, ignoring Dean’s remark as he ushered them in to the room he’d come from._

_Packed on all four walls were torture devices of another kind. The kind Dean had seen in the bedrooms of a lot of women he’d picked up over the years. He took a deep breath and tried to jerk away from Crowley._

_Chuckling and slamming the door behind them, Crowley all but threw Dean to the floor.  He walked around to a large leather covered bench in the middle room and immediately began fiddling with the shackles chained to it. Dean tried to stand straight but his knees were starting to buckle beneath him. His chest was tightening up and his fingertips burned coldly as anxiety started to trickle in._

_He’d never been in this situation before. Of all the monsters that had tied him up, never once had any been as dark as this, as dark as Crowley was becoming. Dean had no way to escape, no way to call for help. He was trapped and something inside was starting to bubble to the surface, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time._

_Fear._


	2. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had been captured by Crowley and for eight months endured the worst anyone can think of. He struggles in the present while remembering the past. Cas and Sam try their best to help but never having dealt with this type of aftermath, their lost. Warnings: Non-con, rape, assault. CrowleyxDean CastielxDean JacobxDean Drowley Destiel Dean/OC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are for Ch. 2! Ch. 3 will up within the next day or two and I'm currently editing Ch. 4!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. I do own my oc Jacob.

**xxxxx – This indicates a shift in time. The fic starts off with the present and goes back and forth between past and present. The past will be in italics.**

 

The water never seemed to run cold though Dean had been in the shower for a long while. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile of the wall, trying not to get lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even flinch when he heard Sam run down the hallway outside, calling his name. The sound faded for a moment before he heard a deep sigh come from behind him. Sam had found him, even though he hadn’t done much to elude him.

“Dean?” He asked, his voice soft and bouncing off the walls. “Are you okay?” He was just a little out of breath from the momentary panic.

Dean didn’t even bother to hide his nudity. He just shrugged and turned around. “Just-” He cleared his throat. “Just needed to take a shower.”

At least this was something, and Sam wasn’t going to shrug off this small talk. “If you’re hungry, I could make you something to eat.” He looked to the clothes tossed carelessly on the wooden bench, trying not to get an eyeful of his brother.

“Yeah, I guess.” His voice sounded husky, unused and scratchy. Dean had to clear his throat again, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Sam nodded and left briefly, returning with a towel. “Here.” He said, holding it outward to the other.

He took a moment to shut the water off but eventually Dean took the towel. Before he could wrap it around himself he heard Sam softly gasp, taken aback by what appeared to be a brand scorched into Dean’s left hip. It was one word, a simple cursive spelling of Darling, large enough that it could just barely be covered by Dean’s hand. He could have asked Cas to heal it away but he’d had it for so long that it just seemed a part of him, another scar to add to the few he’d collected over the past eight months.

He wrapped the towel around his waist as Sam continued to look anywhere else, finding it hard to hide his shock and outward rage from showing on his face. Crowley would endear so much worse from the younger Winchester. He’d kill him five times over, each more deadly than the last.

Sam locked it away for now because he needed to concentrate on Dean. It took him and Cas eight months to find him, no telling what all had been done to him all this time. Whatever it was, Sam knew Dean wasn’t going talk about it any time soon. He could only be cautious around him, try to help him in any way he could, to silently understand that Dean was such a different person now. Sam half wondered if Dean would be able to bounce back from this as quickly as he could with anything else, but something seemed broken inside his older brother, torn to shreds and remolded as a different human being.

“Right. Food.” Sam spoke, breaking the silence. “Is there anything you’d like me to make or get?”

Dean shrugged, water droplets falling from his hair onto his shoulders. The water had turned cold by now but Dean couldn’t feel it against his skin. He just stared a little to the left and towards the floor, still unable to fully look Sam in the eyes.

Sam shifted his feet, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get you dressed and we’ll see what’s in the kitchen.”

xxxxx

_“That’s it Dean, nice and slow.”_

_Crowley watched Dean from above. It was truly a sight to see; Dean’s face buried in his lap, lips wrapped around Crowley’s arousal, his head bobbing up and down, up and down._

_It had been five weeks since Dean had been kidnapped and for the last two of them, Crowley and Dean frequented that secret room. Dean fought every step of the way, even came so close as to knocking out the guards with pure adrenaline-fueled strength, but Crowley would always be stronger, always prepared and he always won the fights in the end._

_For those two weeks, each item in the room had been used on him at least once. At first he was angry and when he wasn’t gagged, he’d yell anything he could. It only made Crowley push Dean further. Somewhere along the line, he’d lose his resilience and soon after his voice, and the next day he’d start all over._

_One day he’d found the spark inside him and pushed back but it only ended with another beating, another humiliation. Dean was tired. If he fought back, he’d be beaten and when he was beaten he prayed as loudly as he could to any angel that would hear. When no one would answer, he’d lost all resolve for life and repeatedly wished to die._

_After Crowley spent himself down the Winchesters’ throat, he pushed Dean away to fix his pants. Dean remained naked on his knees, arms and wrists bound behind his back. He watched Crowley stand, looming over him and smiling. “You did well today, Dean. No teeth. Maybe I can arrange a treat for you tomorrow.”_

_Dean lowered his head. A treat here didn’t mean anything good. Crowley reached down to tilt Dean’s chin up. “I’m all you have now. Your brother and that angel will never find you.”_

_Dean tried to look away but Crowley had a tight hold. He could practically guess what Crowley’s next words were and he desperately didn’t want him to say them out loud. “And maybe that’s because they don’t want to.” Crowley spoke softly, his voice gruff and his breath hot. Dean ripped his head from Crowley’s grasp, his stomach becoming a knotted mess. He felt like vomiting and crying but instead he glared up at Crowley, his bottom lip quivering as the forever tell his face gave away._

_Crowley chuckled and patted Dean’s head before he left the room, appointing two demons to stand watch as Dean eventually let his head fall forward, and his shoulders beginning to shake._

xxxxx

The clothing Sam had laid out for Dean seemed foreign and strange. They’d been his clothes, his iconic wardrobe from before. He could have put them on but he wasn’t that man anymore. Instead, he bypassed Sam and rummaged through his dresser drawers for a plain shirt and pants.

“Is there anything specific you want?” Sam asked, turning to look at the door while Dean dressed.

Food had become such a distant thought. Sure, Crowley had fed him, but food had no taste anymore. He was hungry but really had no desire to eat. “I don’t know.” He mumbled.

“How about I grab us some burgers?” Sam asked, making a move towards the hallway.

Dean shrugged. “Okay.” He paused. “Uhm, can I go to the library?”

Sam’s brow furrowed, concerned. “Y-yeah, sure man. You don’t have to ask.” He tried to smile but all he felt was more anger directed at Crowley. Had he made Dean ask to go places? What had Crowley done to make Dean so uncomfortable to even ask a question? Sam had balled a fist up, digging his nails into the palm of his hands. He wanted to bunch something but instead kept walking down the hallway with Dean in tow.

Dean followed Sam out into the library and took a seat at the cleaner of the two tables. The other one had books piled high or flung about. The room itself wasn’t all that clean either. Dean had noticed but didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched Sam walk up the stairs and to the front door of the bunker. “I’ll be back soon.” He mentioned. It was a hard thing to do, leaving Dean behind if only for a little while, but this was something Sam could control. Plus, Cas was around the bunker and Sam really had nothing to worry about, though that didn’t really stop him from worrying at all.

Everything had been so crazy and turned upside down that if being able to buy burgers was something he could do to help, he’d do it. He’d have to take a lot of precaution to even just get to a diner but come hell or high water he’d get those damn burgers.

xxxxx

_Two knocks rapped against the hard wooden door, which meant someone was coming in to change the sheets. Dean shifted, peering over his shoulder as the door opened. Another nameless demon whose face blended in with all the rest entered with cleans sheets and a new pillow. Dean didn’t need to be told to stand but he did and took his time in doing so. His body was still sore from his session with Crowley the day before and he needed to take it easy._

_He stood, leaning against the opposite wall. His fingers grazed the stone and the etched lines where he’d been marking how many days he’d been in this small cell. Fifty four. Fifty four days of torture. He could easily remark that being in Hell was a much worse fate, but at least in Hell he knew there was no way for Sam to get to him. It was more torture knowing that he’d been here fifty four days and Sam still hadn’t come to rescue him._

_The door stood open to his right and while the demon changed his sheets, Dean wondered if the second guard, for there were two most of the time, was standing just outside. Dean took a step forward, then he took another, then another and soon he was standing out in the hallway. He looked left and right and didn’t see anyone._

_This instantly felt weird and made Dean uncomfortable but at least he was out of the small room. He took one last look over his shoulder and was surprised that the demon inside was standing right behind him, unfazed that Dean was out in the hallway. He could easily shut the door and make a run for it but the demon casually stepped aside, gesturing to the newly made up bed._

_Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that it felt wrong to be standing on this side of the door. Suddenly the hallway seemed too big as if it could swallow him up. So Dean did the only thing he could think of to calm the sudden pounding in his chest. He stepped back in to the room and watched as the demon stepped back out and closed the door, any light from the hallway slowly slithering out of sight. The lock on the door clicked loudly and Dean flinched as he leaned up against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sammy, where are you?” He whispered into the dark room._


	3. Don't Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had been captured by Crowley and for eight months endured the worst anyone can think of. He struggles in the present while remembering the past. Cas and Sam try their best to help but never having dealt with this type of aftermath, their lost. Warnings: Non-con, rape, assault. CrowleyxDean CastielxDean JacobxDean Drowley Destiel Dean/OC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter! I'm still working on editing chapter four!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do own my OC Jacob.

**xxxxx – This indicates a shift in time. The fic starts off with the present and goes back and forth between past and present. The past will be in italics.**

The library seemed bigger then Dean remembered. It had been less than a year, but Dean felt that he had changed so much. He couldn’t stomach the open space for much longer but he also couldn’t sit in his room forever. He had been looking at a crack in the table for a good five minutes before Castiel walked in to the room. Barely having enough time to prepare himself for another body in the room, he jumped, startled.

“Sorry.” Cas said abruptly, stopping his tracks. He waited until Dean calmed a little before joining him at the table. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table. His movements were strained and stiff, eager to not upset Dean any further.  
Dean shrugged, trying to avoid looking at the other. The crack in the table became far more interesting than it had before.  
Cas took a seat opposite Dean and a for a while no one spoke. The silence became too deafening but neither knew how to break it. Dean still wouldn’t look at him and Cas wondered if it was out of anger or shame. They’d suddenly become so formal with each other; unsure of how to act around one another.

Dean would have called Cas his best friend before, and assumed Cas had felt the same but now Dean couldn’t bear being in the same room as him. He wasn’t even sure of himself and his reasons why, but being here, in the bunker, in the library with Cas, felt too foreign to him, as if he were in someone else’s house.

Cas opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Then opened it again and sighed. There was so much he wanted to say to Dean but in the end all he could seem to say to him were apologies. “I’m sorry Dean.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, weighed down with all the other words left behind.

As if by an invisible unbroken line, green eyes suddenly found blue and then neither could look away. “For what?” Dean mumbled. He felt like breaking apart at that moment. He just couldn’t come to terms that Castiel actually felt sorry but he felt it, the sorrow in Cas’s voice, coming off of the angel in waves. He tried to keep what he could together but his bottom lip began to quiver. It seemed that everything nowadays made him want to cry.

“For-” For what indeed? What could he say? What would make things right? Castiel sighed again, a heavier burden resting on his shoulders. “For everything.”

Suddenly it was as if Crowley’s voice had penetrated Dean’s mind. He could hear him screaming and talking softly all at once. **They didn’t even try. They left you behind to save themselves. Screw their half-assed apologies.**

It felt as if his head was on fire, pins and needles and everything else in between stabbed at his brain. Dean jumped from his chair and flinched when it fell back on the floor with a loud clank. “I –uh, I need to go to my room.”

He didn’t stay to hear Cas’ protest, nor see the look of concern and pity on his face. Dean knew it was there and he couldn’t stand looking at it. He had to get back to his room. No, not his room, the room that use to be his. His room was where ever Crowley was.

xxxxx

_Crowley picked up his scotch, the ice clinking against the crystalline sides of the glass. He gulped down a good bit as he watched Dean enter the room. There was a small table in the center, dinner laid out on top of a plain white cloth. “Good evening, Dean.” He purred._

_Looking at the table to Crowley, Dean chose not to speak. He sat down across from the King and stared at the food in front of him. "Figured we’d try dining again together tonight, a nice change from your cell.”_

_Dean shrugged, debating to even eat. He looked back up at Crowley sitting smug. If Dean chose not to eat he’d be weak and Crowley would be extra hard on him, but the thought of eating made him nauseated. In the end he picked up a fork and started pushing his food around on the plate._

_“Dean, would you like a bigger room?” Crowley spoke suddenly after a few minutes of awkward silence. When the Winchester looked up from his food, surprised, Crowley smiled and continued. “You’ve been so good lately and the cell just seems so small. I could give you a proper room so you can stretch your legs, if you like.”_

_Dean gulped down the small amount of food he’d managed to pass between his lips. A bigger room did sound nice. “I guess.” He gruffed. He really didn’t feel like talking. Already the normalcy of this “dinner date” was driving him up the walls. He hated looking at Crowley’s face and tried to find something else to look at._

_Without warning, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Crowley had moved around the table in a manner of seconds to stand next to the other. He squeezed Dean’s shoulder and Dean suddenly felt like crying._

_“Why me Crowley?” He asked, his voice soft and wavering._

_Crowley smirked and leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear. “I thought it’d be nice to watch you burn.” He lifted Dean’s head gently by his chin, forcing him to look at Crowley. “There was a time when I cared, Dean, but that’s long gone.”_

_Dean felt a surge of anger course through him. He glared at Crowley. “When Sam and Cas-”_

_It was all he could get out before Crowley cracked Dean across the jaw. He saw white for a moment and felt immense pain before he fell out of his chair. His vision swam back into focus as Crowley flexed his hand, looking down at Dean with all the authority he held over the other. “Don’t test me Dean. I’m stronger then you and I have all the time in the world. They will never find you, accept it or don’t. Either way, you are mine for eternity. At some point you’ll come to terms with that and beg me to keep you safe. It’s only a matter of time.”_

_Readjusting the sleeves of his suit, Crowley gestured to a crony standing outside the room. “Help him to his room. Take away his bedding and strip him down. Let him cool off for the night.”_

xxxxx

Dean rarely use to lock the door to his room in the bunker. Hell, half the time he’d just leave the door wide open. He use to feel so safe that leaving it open was nothing. Nothing could get him in the bunker. Now, he locked it purely so Sam or Cas couldn’t follow him inside.

He leaned against the door and sighed. Real life was becoming too much at the moment and when he allowed himself to shut his eyes for longer than a second, he pictured Crowley above him, sweaty and smiling. Dean’s face flushed and his body rose in temperature until he could practically feel the heat radiating off his skin.

A sickening pit formed in the bottom of his stomach as he became hot and bothered and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. He missed Crowley so much it physically hurt and he hated himself just as much. He could almost feel himself rocking back and forth, a ghostly echo of Crowley’s body laboring above his own. His hands began to tremble as he slowly ran his hand down his stomach to the hem of his jeans.

**Wrong. So wrong.** He was safe, at home, but his body betrayed him just like all the times before. He could feel himself hardening in his pants as the memories filled his head. A hand had slipped inside at some point, so quickly that he hadn’t noticed until he was touching himself.

Dean slipped and let his guard down, let himself review all the times he’d been with Crowley. Kicking his pants to the floor, he slumped down against the door. He closed his eyes and saw Crowley on top of him, jutting back and forth, hearing a distant memory of the headboard ram against the wall, remembered the pleas and begging and moans escape from somewhere deep down inside.

He leaned hard against the door, his hand at first slowly and tantalizingly, then quickly move up and down, up and down. **Scream.** **Scream his name.** Up and down. **Come undone.** Up and down. A rush pulled from somewhere deep inside. He remembered screaming Crowley’s name, squirming and rutting beneath the King of Hell. Before he could stop, he spent himself, hot and quick and sticky and for a moment he saw white behind his eyelids. Ecstasy beamed from him but it was soon followed by instant regret and shame.

He missed Crowley. He missed being undone underneath him, pure and raw and animalistic with no apologies. It all made Dean sick at the same time but as he sat, staring down at what he’d done, he came to a sudden realization. If he wanted to be with Crowley, he’d find a way.


	4. Upgrade and Downgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had been captured by Crowley and for eight months endured the worst anyone can think of. He struggles in the present while remembering the past. Cas and Sam try their best to help but never having dealt with this type of aftermath, their lost. Warnings: Non-con, rape, assault. CrowleyxDean CastielxDean JacobxDean Drowley Destiel Dean/OC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter Four! I admit I did get sidetracked writing another Drowley fic so I had paused on editing this chapter but its up! Chapter Five may come a littler later because I want to flesh out chapter one for that other fic, but once I finish that I'll be posting here too so stay tuned!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do own my OC Jacob.

_Silence filled the empty spaces of the cell. It creeped in from under the door and latched on to every corner, every crack in the stone surrounding him. Dean lay awake, staring at the stone ceiling above. At first, when he’d been brought to this room, nothing but questions flooded his mind, drowning him in anxiety and fear and anger, but after a while everything floated away. Now he didn’t think much at all. All he did was wait, at first impatiently, then because there was nothing else left to do. It wasn’t until the door opened that he even thought to blink._

_Crowley stepped in, pausing to take a look around the dank cell. “Well.” His voice was soft, quiet, and rugged._

_Dean turned on his side to face the wall away from Crowley._

_Sighing, Crowley walked closer, his boots lightly tapping against the hard ground. “I thought I’d show you to your room today.” Dean’s whole body tensed and Crowley made a note. “Come on.” He gestured towards the door with a nod._

_Rolling over, Dean sat up and stared at the other for a moment. Crowley nodded towards the door again and Dean got up to follow behind him. He instantly felt like he could breathe once he was past the door frame, but there was a small tug in the bottom of his stomach that begged him to stay inside._

_After a first few timid steps, they were eventually strolling down the hallway together. “You deserve better than a small cell.” Crowley spoke. Dean tensed again and kept his gaze elsewhere. He wanted to scream that he deserved more, to be set free, to have his memory wiped. He deserved more than a room upgrade, but he couldn’t find the energy to do more than speak softly._

_“I don’t care what you think I deserve.”_

_Crowley stopped short, grabbing Dean by the arm. He fought the urge to rip his arm away, afraid of making Crowley angry so instead, he stopped and stared daggers down at his captor. “I thought a reward was in order but I guess not.” Crowley shrugged._

_Dean shrunk back slightly, desperate to put as much space between him and Crowley. “A reward? For what?”_

_Crowley smirked and squeezed Dean’s arm. “For being so good lately. You’re really picking up on your lessons.”_

_Pure distain forced Dean to rip his arm away, not caring for the consequences after all. “Are you kidding me?” His voice rose, an old spark of the man he used to be bursting forth. “I don’t want a reward. I just want to forget.”_

_Crowley backed Dean up against the wall behind the taller of the two. He leaned close enough to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Forgetting about it would be pointless.” His breath was hot against Dean’s neck, who was trying his hardest to lean as far away from Crowley as he could. Dean’s face began to flush with heat and disgust boiled in his gut. “You are mine to do with as I please, and in time you’ll want more from me. I see it now Dean.” One of Crowley’s hands found its way to Dean’s hip while the other snaked its way up to Dean’s hair, fingers grasping a good clump and pulling so Dean’s neck was far more exposed. “I’ll show you. Give yourself to me fully and you’ll see how well I can take care of you.” A mischievous tongue slithered out to trace Dean’s earlobe, trailing down to a nice spot on his neck. Teeth followed closely behind to deliver the tiniest of nibbles on his flesh._

_Dean let out a soft moan behind tightly closed lips, his skin hot and flushed all over. At some point he had shut his eyes tight and he knees had grown weak. A voice screamed inside his head, telling him how pathetic he was for succumbing so easily his man, this monster. His body was busy singing to a different tune however, accustomed to the fingers slowly grazing their way down from his hips. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering under Crowley’s doings._

_Crowley abruptly pulled away, fixing any wrinkle in his suit. He watched as Dean seemed to deflate against the wall, failing to muster any self-respect. He’d won this round and soon Dean would realize that Crowley would always win._

_All the anger Dean had held onto seemed to dissipate, leaving nothing but a panting mess against the wall. There was no fight left in him now and how could there be? It’d been roughly two months and there had been no word down any of the lines of Demons, no rumors of Sam and Cas getting anywhere close to him. He knew they’d never give up, he knew that for sure, but the simple fact was that he was stuck here, well hidden from them._

_Somewhere deep down inside, behind the surety of a rescue, he was scared that Sam and Cas would never be able to find him. They’d be searching all their days while he rotted away under Crowley._

_Before, two months would have seemed like a long vacation, but it was two months of torture every single day. Every day he was made to succumb to Crowley because in the end that’s all he could do to stay alive. These past two months felt more like an eternity, matching that of his time in hell and then some. He wasn’t quite sure how much longer he’d last, how much longer he’d be himself before completely turning over to Crowley._

_Clearing his throat, said King drew Dean’s attention. He crooked his finger and continued on down the hallway. Dean let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and followed, trying to shake off all the emotions he’d just experienced. The room wasn’t that much farther away but their footsteps clodding along the echoing hallway made the walk seem longer._

_When they finally stopped at a large wooden door, Dean noted the two guards standing outside, looking as stoic as all the other demons in the joint. Neither moved an inch as Crowley passed by them, Dean in tow._

_It was a large room, built from the same stone structure the rest of the place was, but it had things in it that his cell did not. Along one of the walls but set firmly as the centerpiece of the room, was a large canopy bed, big enough to fit at least four people. Along another wall was a desk and chair and a small lamp. It stood next to another door, cracked opened slightly to give way to a tiled floor. Dean could only hope that was a bathroom complete with a shower._

_That tiny tug in his stomach grew a little, a warning to Dean that if he were to accept this “gift” from Crowley, there’d be no turning back. No being that prisoner he was back in the cell, a prisoner with some spark. If he chose to accept this room, it was only one step further into Crowley’s arms._

_Before he had a moment to reject it, Dean heard the door shut behind him. While he had been debating the possibility of upgrading, Crowley had made the choice for him._

_“You know, it’s customary to be thankful when someone gives another a gift.” Crowley snarked, making his way towards Dean. “I’m giving you comfort, Dean.” He drawled, running a stern hand over Dean’s shoulder, turning the other around to face him. “You should be thanking me.”_

_Dean tried to move way, to look anywhere else, but Crowley pressed another hand to Dean’s chest and nudged him in the direction of the bed. His knees gave way as he bumped into the mattress and before he fell back completely, he shut his eyes tight and began to pray._

_xxxxx_

It had been a few hours since Sam had left. He walked through the bunker door, a smile on his face at the small accomplishment of buying food, but it quickly faded. Dean was nowhere in the library, so Sam placed the food on one of the tables and once more walked to his brother’s bedroom door. He knocked. “Dean?” He called out softly. He knocked a few more times and when there was no answer, Sam opened the door a crack and saw no one inside.

He instantly went from room to room, surveying each one for Dean. He stopped when he reached the kitchen and saw Castiel with his head in his hands. “Cas?” Sam walked in, a bit worried.

Cas looked up at Sam and sighed. “I’m sorry.” It seemed that all he was doing nowadays was apologizing, but he couldn’t help it.

Sam momentarily brushed it off. “Have you seen Dean?”

Brow furrowing, Cas slowly rose out of his seat. “I thought he went back to his room.”

“He wasn’t in there.” A sudden realization hit Sam and for a moment he wondered if Dean had snuck out of the bunker. He was about to voice his concern when a loud clang reverberated down the hallway. Sam and Cas locked eyes for mere seconds before darting out of the room.

Another large noise startled the two and Cas took the chance to blip out of existence. Sam kept on running though, anxiety causing him to start panting a lot sooner then he would on a run around the bunker hallways.

Cas reached Dean first, popping into the room the boys used to interrogate monsters in. Dean was kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up all the items he had dropped when he bumped into one of the shelving units.

Sam showed up seconds later, a bit out of breath. He hovered in the doorway as he watched Cas crouch to Dean’s level.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, starting into the room.

Dean shook his head as he grabbed a few things off the floor. “Sorry.” He mumbled. When Cas picked up the metal bowl that was most likely the culprit for the loud clang, Dean quickly and seemingly out of character, snatched it out of the angel’s hands.

Perplexed, Cas looked over his shoulder at Sam. He knew in an instant what all those items on the floor were for but he waited until Sam realized it too before speaking.

It didn’t take Sam long. “Dean, are you crazy? What are you doing?” He repeated, his voice a little louder than Dean liked. Dean flinched but resumed picking up the rest of the items, ignoring Sam’s question.

“Just leave me alone.” The demand sounded so hollow, so empty of where a threat might have been. Dean stood and started for the door but both Cas and Sam blocked him. “Please, Sam, just leave me alone.”

It was the first time since he’d been back that he’d spoken Sam’s name. It shocked Cas and Sam both by the wavering sound of Dean’s voice but they stood firm between him and the doorway.

Dean tried to look them in the eyes but failed. All the anger that Sam had been holding onto was seeping from him in waves and Dean could sense it. He’d always been able to tell when Crowley was angry with him and he could see that Sam was trying his hardest to hold it all in check. When Dean chose to look at the floor however, Sam snapped.

“So that’s it?” Sam began, his voice already booming. “We finally get you out after months-” Cas tried to place a hand on Sam’s shoulder to stop him but he moved away and glared Dean. “-and you want to run back to Crowley?” He couldn’t believe the accusation coming out of his mouth but he continued on, determined to let go of this frustration. He knew that Dean needed time to heal, to get better but Sam was so upset and angry and a small part of him felt mildly betrayed. “Do you know what it took to get you- ”

Cas finally took a stand and firmly squeezed Sam’s shoulder, momentarily silencing him. “Dean, Sam is not angry with you.” He could see Dean shaking and shuffling his feet, eager to leave the room.

“Can I just got to my room please?” The question sounded so faint and small that it snapped Sam out of his anger. His shoulders sagged under the weight of Castiel’s hand and he sighed. “Dean, you have the whole bunker to walk around in. You don’t have to stay in just your room.” Sam had calmed, his voice soft and understanding again.

Dean looked up at Sam, eyes full of tears. He was so confused and lost and he thought that he was so sure in wanting to summon Crowley, but now he could see the pain and anger he was causing Sam and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea. “Can-can I go outside?”

Sam shared a look with Cas before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, no. We don’t know what Crowley will do next and we can’t risk you leaving the bunker.”

“So I’m a prisoner here too.” Dean hadn’t meant to sound so small but that was how he felt. He was being treated with little kid gloves and it was driving a small part of him insane. He knew the process; if he were to start healing mentally then Sam and Cas wouldn’t look at him like he was made out of glass, but this was different. Far different than anything he’d had to deal with in the past. He wanted to feel right in his own home but he when he thought of a safe place, the answer always came up Crowley.

Dean nodded, maybe confirming a thought that had run through his mind, maybe agreeing with Sam, who couldn’t look anymore pained, that it wasn’t safe outside, but in either case, he placed the items from his hands on a nearby shelf and moved swiftly past the other two. “I’ll be in my room.”

Sam and Cas could do nothing but stare at one another. There was no upside this time. Sure, they’d saved Dean, but for now there was no bright light at the end of the tunnel. At least not yet and not for a good long time.


End file.
